Chapter Thirty

 

 

Moscow, Russia

December 5, 10:45 a.m.

 

Carrie listened calmly to Justin delivering the bad news but reserved her judgment until they had talked to Derzhavin. She said her opinion would depend on the level of assistance the FSB Deputy Director was in fact providing this mission. He had made a promise, but like many things promised under grave threats, the truth was seldom exactly as described by people forced to make pledges in those circumstances.

Derzhavin’s security detail had been ordered to let them in, so Justin and Carrie proceeded to his private recovery quarters. Unlike Yuliya’s small room, this was a large suite. Derzhavin was half-sitting, half-lying in a hospital bed, talking on a landline phone. His face still looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot but someone had done a decent job cleaning him up. His hair was scruffy and his hospital gown was rumpled. Derzhavin was hooked to an IV machine through his right arm. His left arm had been put into a cast from his shoulder to his elbow.

“I have to go but I will call you later. Yes, yes, of course,” Derzhavin said curtly but respectfully in Russian as Justin and Carrie stepped inside the suite and stood by the door. He placed the handset on the receiver, struggling to get his fingers free from the curly cord, then tried to fix his hair by running his hand from the front to the back. It worked for only half of his hair, leaving the back side with many stubborn hair strands sticking up in many different directions.

Derzhavin winced. The motions had probably caused him pain in his shoulder, or perhaps the medications were wearing off. He tried to readjust his pillow but failed and knocked the pillow down to the floor. He cursed the mother of the pillow’s maker.

“You should relax, Derzhavin, or you’ll have a heart attack,” Justin said as he and Carrie walked toward Derzhavin’s bed, set next to a large window. He picked up the pillow and placed it behind Derzhavin’s back.

“Thank you,” he said in English and leaned back. He sighed then said, “You came at the right time. I just received an intelligence update about our friend in Dagestan.”

“Good or bad?” Justin asked as he sank into one of the comfortable armchairs by the head of the bed. Carrie sat in an identical armchair next to Justin.

“It depends on how you see it,” Derzhavin said. “Our trusted contacts on the ground confirmed Kaziyev’s exact location. Well, the neighborhood and a block of houses where he’s most likely hiding as of last night. That’s the good news.”

“Where is he?” Justin asked.

“Buinovsky. A small town in northern Dagestan, just over the border with Chechnya.”

“Terrorist heartland,” Carrie said.

Justin nodded.

“That’s the bad news,” Derzhavin said in a weak voice. “Kaziyev has the protection of his own men and other insurgents from an Islamic group that controls the area.”

“What support are you providing us?” Justin’s words came out as a demand rather than a simple question.

“My people are assembling a package with all the details about the location, aerial photos, other shots of known and suspected terrorists, detailed topographical maps, all the intelligence we have so far and as it pours in.”

Justin nodded. A good start.

“We’ll need that intel right away, so we can start planning our operation,” Justin said. “What about manpower?”

Derzhavin flinched then rubbed his chin. “I can’t provide a large force at short notice, especially since it will be under a foreign command. Plus Kaziyev is on the defensive, expecting a fierce strike. A large force would be very difficult to hide and result in many casualties.”

“I agree,” Justin said. “I already have about half a dozen people ready for their orders. If you can secure a safe insertion into Buinosky, transport, weapons, a guide or two, and six, seven men, that should be sufficient for a blitz.”

Derzhavin nodded and drew in a breath of relief. “The transport, weapons, and men are not a problem. Safe insertion is not guaranteed.”

“Of course not. I’m not asking for guarantees, but I’m looking for capable men who know their way around the area, where the checkpoints are located, and the safest trails to sneak into the country. I don’t want my team to fall into an ambush before we even enter Dagestan.”

“You’ll have a guide, and my contact on the ground will provide support,” said Derzhavin.

“OK. I’d like to leave as soon as we can, preferably today,” said Justin.

“Yes, we’ll make it happen. I don’t want to give Kaziyev time to resettle to another stronghold.”

Justin looked over at Carrie. She was giving him a worried look.

“How long before I get the intel package?” Justin said.

“I’ll have someone bring over what we already have and schedule for updates every two hours,” Derzhavin said.

“That will work. Carrie, any questions?”

Carrie leaned forward. “Yes, exfil plans.”

Derzhavin thought about the answer for a few moments. “There’s a strong military outpost in Gurlar—about a hundred miles south of Buinosky—that has a few Mi-24 choppers. One will be on standby to retrieve the team.”

Justin nodded. It was not the greatest of scenarios but he had been in worse situations. The outlines of a rough plan were taking shape in his mind. “All right. I’ll be downstairs visiting a friend.” He stared deep into Derzhavin’s eyes as he said those words.

Derzhavin began to shrug, but caught himself and his face showed faint concern. “How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Recovering, but she’ll be out of commission for quite some time. She’s pissed off.”

Derzhavin searched Justin’s eyes for an explanation but Justin simply stared back. A moment later, Derzhavin asked, “And her business contacts?”

“They’re not impressed either, but for the time being you’re safe. The future will depend on what you do or mostly what you do not do.”

Derzhavin nodded.

Justin said, “Send your man to me with the files. And I want to meet the full team at 3:00 p.m.”

“Where?” Derzhavin asked.

Justin thought about it for a moment. It had to be a safe place, but he did not want to give away the location of their safe house to FSB members faithful to Derzhavin. He decided the location of this meeting provided a good opportunity to test Derzhavin’s loyalty. “Your headquarters, the safest place in Moscow,” he said with a small smirk.

Derzhavin did not hide his disapproving look. “You’re testing the limits of my patience. I don’t like it.”

Justin stood up. “I want a token of your commitment to our joint operation, Derzhavin. That’s all.”

He waited for a moment but Derzhavin did not say a word. The look of his face expressed more clearly than any words his anger and his resentment. Then he cleared his throat, pointed a finger at Justin, and said, “You know, other men, better men, have threatened me, crossed me, and in many other ways tried to outplay me. They’re long gone and forgotten, Mr. Hall, but I’m still here.”

Justin cocked his head to the left. Derzhavin’s warning had surprised him only because it came so early in their game. It had barely been twelve hours since he had saved the man’s life and this is what he got in return: a warning. This positive thinking is not working well for me, not when I’m surrounded by this kind of man.

He locked eyes with Derzhavin and gave him a pleasant smile. “There’s always a first time, Derzhavin. Consider this your first time, and you have my word that if you try to backstab me, it will be your last.”

He headed toward the door.

Carrie followed him but before stepping outside into the hall she turned her head and gave Derzhavin a menacing gaze. “I’m not very good with words,” she said coldly but evenly. “And I don’t make threats or warnings. I make promises and I keep them. At the first sign of betrayal, I’m promising you that I will kill you.”

Derzhavin tried to keep his gaze stoic but the corner of his lips gave an involuntary twitch and his arm began to tremble. He flinched as if Carrie’s words had crossed the room and slapped him across the face. He looked away at the cream-colored wall of the hospital room.